


Stand by me

by laughter_now



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughter_now/pseuds/laughter_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, it doesn't take words to communicate - or to offer silent comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand by me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Suits. No copyright infringement is intended.  
> Written in response to a prompt on the suitsmeme. Prompt details can be found at the end of the story.

_**Stand By Me** _

 

The car is gliding along smoothly, the sun shining through the windows. There's a speck of dirt on the dusty pane, and Mike watches in fascination how the light plays over and around it, creating whirls and shadows on the back of his right hand where it is resting against the door. It's a good day, and he's excited to see Grammy again. It seems like ages ago that he last went for a visit, and Grammy always has chocolate for him. But it's very warm today, so maybe she'll even have a Popsicle. He likes the strawberry kind best, but orange isn't too bad, either.  
  
It's going to be a bit longer until they get there though, but that's okay. Mike likes driving in the car; he likes to watch the trees and houses pass by the window so quickly that everything is getting a little blurry. His Mom and Dad are sitting in front, talking with each other, and Mom has turned on the radio. Mike really wants it to play one of the songs Mom always listens to when she's working around the house. She always sings along to those songs, and sometimes she takes his hands and they dance all kinds of silly dances in the kitchen. Of course they can't dance in the car, but Mike really likes it when Mom sings.  
  
It's one of his Dad's stations on the radio, though, and there's no singing. Instead, a man is talking about things Mike doesn't really understand, and that's getting boring. So he keeps looking at his hand, and the way the light is making funny shadows on it. The speck of dirt makes the shadows look a bit like a bunny if he turns his hand slightly towards the window, and if he bounces his hand slightly against the car door, it almost looks as if the bunny is hopping across the back of his hand. He giggles and bounces his hands some more, making the dust bunny take bigger and bigger leaps until the shadow blurs.  
  
"Mom look, there's a b…"  
  
He doesn't get to finish because suddenly it's so horribly loud inside the car. There's screeching, and a bang that's so loud it makes his ears hurt. The world starts spinning outside the window, and something is throwing him around so that his hand is jerking into the air and the dust bunny vanishes from his skin. Mike is feeling sick, and he's getting scared. He wants to call out for his mom, or for Dad, to tell them to make it stop, but he can't hear his own voice above the loud screeching and banging. Then the car suddenly jerks, and there's an even louder bang, and the horrible spinning and sliding stops. Mike feels how he's tossed against the side of his booster seat, and his ear hurts from where it's hitting against it.  
  
He doesn't want to cry, but he's scared and everything hurts, and even though there's no more screeching and banging now, it's still so incredibly loud. Something's hissing and there's loud voices – but not Mom and Dad, it doesn't sound like Mom and Dad – and there's a ringing in his ears. He wants to call out for them, call out for Mom to come and make everything better, but his voice isn't working right. There's something screeching very loudly, and it almost sounds as if someone is screaming, but Mike doesn't know who it is.  
  
He can't move properly, either. He wants to get up and climb into the front of the car, he wants to crawl into Mom's lap and have her hug him until it all goes away, but he can't move. He's strapped too tightly into his seat, and something is pressing against his legs. It stops him from getting to Mom, and Mom isn't coming to get him out of here either, and that scares Mike more than anything.  
  
He keeps struggling, keeps kicking his legs against whatever is holding him in place, but no matter how much he struggles, he can't get free. His breathing is coming in short, heaving gasps, and suddenly he realizes that the loud crying he can hear is coming from himself.  
  
Frantically, his hands are clawing at whatever is pressing against his legs as his eyes stray sightlessly through the darkness.  
  
Darkness?  
  
The sun was shining brightly just a few moments ago, but now everything is dark around him. He's still breathing frantically, trying to draw enough air into his lungs to call for his Mom, but his head is spinning and he can barely gasp in enough air to stay awake. His fingers are clawing at the fabric that's tangling around his legs, but he can't get it loose.  
  
Something rustles to his left, and a moment later a dim light illuminates the room around him. A distant, rational part of Mike's brain is aware that he's in their bedroom at the condo, but another part of him, a part he can't turn off or control, is still trapped in that car and desperately trying to get free.  
  
Something shifts beside him, and a moment later there's a sharp tug against his lower body and suddenly his legs are free again. He is still breathing hard, struggling against the terror that's threatening to overwhelm him at the memory of the sounds and feel of being trapped in that car. He knows it's not real, not anymore. It's a memory, a recurring nightmare that he can neither predict nor control, but it feels so real that he simply can't escape it.  
  
Whenever that dream haunts him, it feels like he really is back in that car as it crashes. He can hear it, he can see it and he can smell it. Worse, he can _feel_ it, and once that dream sinks its claws into Mike's mind, he can't shake it off easily.  
  
There are steps approaching his side of the bed, but despite the light of the lamp on Harvey's bedside table Mike feels rather than sees the other man sit down on the edge of the bed beside Mike's hip. That's all he does, though. He just sits there and waits as Mike struggles and gasps with his heart beating wildly in his chest, and Mike is grateful. He can't stand to be touched during these moments, not until he has shaken off the last remnants of the nightmare. He needs to get his body back under control first, and he needs to make his brain understand that he's home and _safe_ , that the dream was just a horrible memory before he can stand any kind of contact.  
  
He's fighting for it, though. He's fighting against the fear and the horrible feeling of being trapped, but it takes long moments – minutes, though he couldn't possibly say how many – until the familiar room around him takes shape. He tries to focus on the figure sitting on the bed beside him, stares at him until the shape stops blurring in front of his eyes and he finds himself looking into a pair of brown eyes.  
  
It calms him, grounds him in a way he can't describe, to see and know that Harvey is there, right beside him, a soothing presence who Mike simply knows is ready and willing to sit beside him for as long as it takes him to snap out of this. The worry is written clearly on his face, though, but it's nothing compared to the frantic almost-panic he was in the first time he witnessed Mike in the throes of this nightmare. By now he has unfortunately witnessed those dreams often enough to know how to react, but still Mike can't quite shake the feeling of shame that's rising at the thought that Harvey has to see him like this in the first place.  
  
If Harvey notices any of that, he doesn't let it show. He keeps looking at Mike, his brown eyes never once leaving Mike's, until Mike feels his body settle once more, fully back in the here and now even though the echoes of the dream are still lingering close to the surface.  
  
Harvey knows, he _always_ knows when that happens, when Mike is feeling steady enough to deal with physical proximity again, and Mike is so fucking grateful that he doesn't have to explain anything, that Harvey simply does the right thing without the need for Mike to ask for it. There is a gentle touch to his forearm, and Mike feels the cool weight of a glass pressed into his hands. He's still shaking too much to raise it without spilling, but his throat feels absolutely parched and he needs to drink something right now. Harvey's hands never leave his, skin warm over Mike's own cold and clammy digits, as he helps Mike to raise the glass to his mouth and makes him empty it slowly, and without spilling anything.  
  
Once Mike is done Harvey puts the glass down on the floor – right beside the paper bag Mike _knows_ is lying there for those nights when he can't stop his frantic breathing and starts to hyperventilate – and scoots closer on the bed. His eyes are still boring into Mike's, silently asking for permission to touch, and Mike doesn't have the strength left to do anything but let himself drop forward, knowing that Harvey is going to catch him.  
  
He does, and Mike tiredly leans against him, his face buried into the crook of Harvey's neck as strong arms wrap around him and hold him tightly. Fingers are carding through his sleep-tousled hair, and Harvey's other hand is rubbing soothing circles across the bare skin of his back, and it helps. Slowly, Mike feels himself calm down. His heartbeat is slowing, and while he still feels a little as if he can't draw in enough air, his breathing is no longer coming in frantic spurs. Harvey's skin is warm against him, the stubble on his face brushing against Mike's cheek as he buries his face against Harvey's neck and just breathes him in.  
  
He doesn't know for how long they sit there, two naked men clinging to each other on a bed in a mixture of exhaustion and desperation, but it's exactly what Mike needs during these moments after the nightmare starts to fade. He needs this, and he's so incredibly grateful that Harvey is willing to give it to him whenever he needs it, no matter if the nightmares happen once every few months or a couple of times a week.  
  
Harvey is there, and by now Mike no longer knows how he'd deal with those dreams without him.  
  
It's after a long while that Mike relaxes, really relaxes into the silent embrace, and that sudden absence of tension is what makes Harvey pull away gently. Once more brown eyes find blue ones, and at Mike's barely perceptible nod Harvey leans forward, and warm lips press against Mike's forehead in the most tender of kisses. A small sigh escapes Mike's lips, and now that the adrenaline is ebbing away, he feels himself fading fast.  
  
But despite the rapidly growing fatigue, it takes an almost superhuman effort to tear himself away from the embrace, to let go of Harvey's steadying presence in order to lie back down. Eventually he does, guided by another soft kiss to his forehead. And then Harvey's presence is gone, and Mike feels a small painful stab somewhere in his chest even though he knows that the other man is just walking around to the other side of the bed.  
  
He's shivering, even though the room isn't really cold, but without Harvey's warmth beside him it feels almost icy. The mattress dips again, and once he turns off the light Harvey rolls closer to Mike, pulls the blanket back up, wrapping it tightly around them and catching Mike between the blanket's warmth and that of his own embrace. It's a close and tight hold, but this time Mike feels no longer trapped without a chance to escape. He feels safe, and as Harvey's arms wrap around him and pull his back against a strong, warm chest, he sags into the mattress with another small sigh.  
  
Their fingers are intertwined where Harvey's hand is resting against his stomach, and they settle against each other. Already Mike can feel sleep tug at him again, and Harvey presses a last kiss against Mike's shoulder before he starts to murmur softly into his ear. It's not words, really, at least none that matter. It's just the gentle hum of Harvey's voice, so low that Mike can only hear it because the sound is so close to his ear, and right now it's the most soothing thing he can imagine.  
  
He shifts a little to get more comfortable, then he gives in to his body's desire for sleep and allows himself to drift off. Normally, the nightmares don't return twice in the same night, so he should be able to catch a few hours of sleep. But even if tonight is going to be the exception and he is going to return back to that car as soon as he drifts off, he knows that Harvey will be there when he wakes up. He'll be there, steady and soothing, without question and without asking for anything in return.  
  
The nightmares are still terrifying, but with Harvey right beside him, Mike isn't afraid to fall asleep anymore.  
  
  
 **The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: I want a fic in which Harvey and Mike don't speak, but at the same time communicate through gestures. Maybe something along the lines of cuddling/sleepy/loving. It's kind of a challenge for the author!! So I want to see who can write the best story without any dialogue!


End file.
